


Let Her Go

by RogueTwelve



Series: Ever the Same [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Drama, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29051691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueTwelve/pseuds/RogueTwelve
Summary: Raising a teenager was always going to be hard. Raising a teenager when the worst days of your life are speculated about on the internet? No one could have prepared them for that.But after years of working through healing from their respective traumas, there’s one thing that they know that they can rely on — each other.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Ever the Same [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724509
Comments: 18
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

Her brush strokes were short as she sketched along her subject’s eyebrow. Working from memory wasn’t always easy, but she was pretty familiar with the faces on the page in front of her. 

Kane was finally retiring in the coming months. She was working on a family portrait to give to him - a sort of thank you, representing all of the lives that he’d unwittingly brought together during his long military career. She was starting with the kids. They were the easiest for her and would give her a solid framework for the rest of the image.

She’d save her own likeness for last… hopefully.

Bellamy’s finger traced along the arch of her foot, tickling it lightly. It was one of his days off, and he’d spent the last hour massaging the tension from her calves and feet. Apparently he was getting bored. She glanced up just long enough to raise an eyebrow and shoot him a mock glare. He grinned back at her as she returned her attention to Marie’s sloping cheekbones.

She was able to concentrate for a few more minutes before Bellamy raised her leg, placing a tender kiss to her inner ankle.

Her pencil stilled as his lips migrated a little higher. “What are you doing?” she asked him drily.

He barely even paused. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

She let him continue for a minute, luxuriating in the fire that still consumed her at his touch, even after they’d been together for over two decades.

His tongue neared the back of her knee, and she pulled back slightly, before placing the ball of her foot on his shoulder and giving it a light push. “This is a bad idea.”

He snagged her leg once again and pulled until she’d sunk onto her back on the couch, then crawled over her. “That’s a matter of opinion,” he teased as he leaned in to press a line of kisses along her jaw.

She tried –admittedly not very hard- to arch away from his ministrations. “Your daughter will be home from school any minute.”

His warm hand slid under the hem of her shirt and smoothed over her stomach until his thumb was dipping under the cup of her bra. She dropped her sketchpad off to the side with a clatter as her hands found their way into his hair and she felt him smile against the skin of her neck. “Well then we better make this quick.”

His lips met hers in a languid kiss as he sucked on her lower lip gently. She mewled into his mouth, hooking one leg around his thigh and using it to pull him closer. His hand continued its exploration, gliding around her ribcage until his fingertips landed on the clasp of her bra. She pulled herself up a little higher to help him.

The lock on the front door clicked.

Hurriedly, she snagged him by the collar and pulled him down so that he was out of view from the entryway. The arm he’d been using to support himself slipped out from underneath his shoulder and he fell forward with a quiet ‘oof’ landing with his face crushed into the cushion beside her.

“Told you,” she whispered to him conspiratorially before trying to smother her laugh.

Serenity tore through the front room, heading straight into Clarke’s studio, obviously on a mission. Her parents’ presence had apparently gone completely over her head. Clarke and Bellamy both scrambled up while she was still in the next room, straightening out their rumpled clothing. Bellamy grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and threw it over their laps, giving his wife a wink. Clarke fetched her work from off of the floor and pretended to still be sketching for good measure.

Their daughter stomped her way back into the room, looking like she was almost buzzing. Clarke watched Bellamy’s eyebrows rise out of the corner of her eye, but he leaned back into the sofa without saying anything.

“There you guys are,” the exasperated way Serenity said it, Clarke would have thought she’d been searching for them for hours rather than the two minutes she’d just witnessed.

“Need something?” Bellamy asked, keeping his voice casual. Clarke nudged him with her foot. He bit back a smirk.

Luckily Serenity was too excited to notice either of her parents’ antics.

“Actually yes,” she informed them, dumping her backpack unceremoniously to the floor and squatting down to dig through it. “You’d never guess just how insanely lucky I was today,” she started to prattle on in the rapid cadence she always seemed to fall into whenever she was keyed up about something. “Rose had to drop out of the Europe trip at the last second and Bryce managed to convince Mrs. Lee to let me take her spot even though I’m not taking any of the required courses this year. I still have enough money saved up from working on the ranch last summer to cover everything. All I need is for you to sign the permission slip.” She straightened up, handing them a slightly crumpled stack of paper.

Clarke saw Bellamy’s brow crease with confusion. He always had trouble keeping up when his daughter was talking that fast. But she’d heard every word.

A heavy lump started to weigh down her stomach. “Doesn’t that trip leave in like two weeks?” she asked quietly. Her nephew hadn’t been able to stop talking about it when he’d been over the previous weekend.

Serenity’s already wide grin broadened. “That’s what’s so awesome. Who would have thought an opportunity like this would just fall into my lap? It’s going to be so cool.”

Bellamy shifted, catching his wife’s anxious gaze briefly, before straightening up. “No.”

Serenity flinched slightly, but kept going as if she hadn’t heard. “We’re going to spend a whole week in Rome. I’ll get to see all of those places that you used to tell me stories about when I was a kid. I’ll actually get to stand in the Roman Forum. How insane is that? And there’s a week in France too. You always told me how much Grandma loved Paris-"

“I said no, Serena.” This time Bellamy’s voice was more firm, not leaving room for an argument.

Their daughter’s face instantly reddened as her jaw ticked.

Clarke’s hand found Bellamy’s underneath the blanket, and gave his wrist what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze. “What your father means to say is that all of this is a little too rushed. We-“ she paused. There was no point in being deceptive when in this particular instance the heart of the blame fell squarely on her shoulders. “ _I_ don’t feel comfortable sending you on a trip this big without having time to properly look over the details.”

The teenager raised an eyebrow haughtily as she folded her arms over her chest. “Was that the issue when you didn’t let Madi take me on her girls trip with Marie during Fall Break too?”

Clarke’s mouth went dry. She didn’t have an easy response to that one.

Serenity saw her looming advantage and pounced on it. “Cut the crap. This has nothing to do with lack of notice or any other excuse you manage to come up with. This is about what happened to you and your abject fear that I’ll somehow meet the same fate.”

Clarke froze. Dread unfurled behind her sternum and started flooding its way throughout her body, its icy-hot tendrils licking just beneath the surface of her skin. She opened her mouth, but only a dry clicking noise came out.

Her daughter continued to press. “You thought that was still a secret? News flash: I’ve known since I was 12 years old. It took me all of 5 minutes when I searched your name online. And I’m _hurt_ by the way. I get why you didn’t say anything when I was still a little kid, but that excuse dried up a long time ago. Do you have any idea how hard it is to know that your parents are keeping something like that from you? To find out something _that big_ from the internet?!” She let out a huff of breath and shook her head. “But that isn’t the point. The point is that _I’m not you_ Mom. You can’t keep me sheltered for the rest of my life because you can’t get over something that happened decades ago. It’s not fair. This is my life and you need to let me live it.”

Clarke could feel Bellamy nearly thrumming with agitation beside her. She knew he was trying to quell his ire so that he didn’t end up saying anything he’d regret. She was similarly at a total loss – but for a different reason. Suddenly she was questioning every parenting decision she’d ever made, falling back into the same old fear that she’d never been fit to be a mother in the first place. 

Bellamy came back to his senses enough to speak before she did. “ _Serena_ ,” his voice held a hard bite of warning.

Clarke watched the steely set of her daughter’s eyes as she stiffened her jaw. Stubbornness was a trait that she’d inherited from both of her parents and she had it in spades. There was no way she would be going down without a fight. “You can’t tell me that I can’t go if I’m the one that’s going to be paying for it. Do you have any idea how ridiculous that is? I’m not asking you to send me into a war zone. It’s a bloody school trip-”

Bellamy stiffened even more beside her. Her grip on his wrist tightened, stopping his words from spilling out.

Before even putting any real thought into it, her mouth opened. “I have conditions,” Clarke’s voice was stiff and flat and sounded so wrong, but she still knew she’d said the words out loud.

Both of her family members’ heads snapped around to look at her - Bellamy’s forehead creased in shock and concern, Serenity looking like she couldn’t believe her ears.

The air felt thick, like it was pressing against her skin. She swallowed and it stuck in her throat uncomfortably. “You call us – Every. Day. No excuses. Everywhere you go, you make sure Bryce and an adult are with you at all times, no exceptions. And you only participate in the activities on the itinerary. I don’t care if the teachers tell you you have free time – you go back to the hotel and you stay there.”

Serenity was quick to nod her head gravely. “I can do all of that. No problem.”

Instead of feeling lighter, Clarke felt worse. The room was starting to go hazy around the edges, and her eyes prickled. She held out a hand, and her daughter scrambled quickly to pass her the papers, along with a pen.

Bellamy still seemed to be stuck in a stunned silence, his piercing gaze almost a physical touch, burning against her face.

She managed a shaky, barely legible signature, then dropped the forms onto the coffee table. “You’d better start packing so that you’ll know if you need anything else. I… I’ll be in my room.”

Bellamy’s hand shifted to her knee, it’s weight trying to anchor her and stop her from disappearing. “Clarke-"

She shook him off and stood up, heading straight for the stairs without a second glance.

“This discussion isn’t over Serena,” the low rumble of her husband’s voice echoed in her ears. She heard the floor creak as he too stood up, and the dull padding of his footsteps as he was quick to jog after her.

She didn’t slow down to wait for him.

Throwing open the door to their room, she barely made it across the threshold before her fingers were buried deep in her hair, pulling hard.

Within seconds Bellamy was behind her, coaxing her arms down and holding them to her sides. “Breathe Clarke,” his low voice was meant to be soothing against her ear. 

She tried. But instead of the whistle of air rushing in and out of her lungs, a low wail ripped free from deep in her chest.

She fought free from his grasp, and he let go. “Don’t,” she warned him when he tried to follow her closer to the bed. “I can’t-" she sat down heavily, burying her face in her hands.

The room was quiet for a moment, the only sound the occasional hitch in her breath. She forced in a lungful of air and held it there for a few seconds then slowly let it escape through her lips. The process repeated. Eventually she was able to pull down a fragile attempt at a cool façade. She lowered her arms.

Bellamy was standing a few feet away, his hands clenched into fists, his expression a mix of helplessness and disbelief. When their eyes locked his jaw clenched.

“She found out about it _online_.” The words were strained, her throat tight. “When will this ever _stop?_ Why does it seem like every time things are finally almost behind us, the world can’t help but sucker punch us in the gut all over again?”

Bellamy sighed. “I don’t know.”

He shifted uncomfortably, putting his hands on his hips. Clarke didn’t know what to say. Her mind was starting to blank out – fixating on her daughter’s words and nothing else.

“She shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” Though quiet, his words had a frustrated edge that was impossible to hide.

Clarke blinked, then shook her head slowly. “She’s hurting.”

For a moment it looked like Bellamy’s eyes were going to bulge out of his skull. “She told you to _get over it_ Clarke. We both know that what happened to us isn’t something that you just ‘get over’.”

A single traitorous tear escaped her eye. She angrily wiped it away with the side of her hand. “Octavia has. She didn’t have any qualms about saying yes to Bryce.”

He let out an aggravated groan. “That isn’t the same thing. You and Octavia didn’t have the same experience for so many different reasons. You can’t make sweeping comparisons like that.”

Her head slumped forward as her fingers gripped the edge of the mattress.

Octavia hadn’t been alone. Octavia hadn’t been on death’s door. Octavia hadn’t _given up_.

Her stomach churned before clenching tight. This conversation wasn’t helping. She stiffened her shoulders and bit down hard on the tip of her tongue.

He squatted down in front of her, ducking so that he could meet her eyes and prying one of her hands free to weave their fingers together. “I don’t think she should go, Clarke. And I… I honestly don’t understand why you told her she could – especially before we’d even had a chance to discuss it.” He swallowed, gaze lowering for a moment before snapping back up. “If you need me to be the bad guy on this I will.”

Clarke’s chin raised the slightest margin as she shook her head bitterly. “It’s a little late for that don’t you think?”

His eyebrows lifted at her tone. “No – it isn’t. Especially not with the way that she acted. I don’t even understand how she could still want to go when she’s seen how much this is hurting you.” 

Clarke pulled her hand back with a grimace, bringing both into her lap and wringing them together until her skin twisted and pulled with a sharp ache. “Because seeing her mother have a breakdown is exactly what she needed on top of everything else,” she muttered darkly.

Out of nowhere his warm hands were pressing into her cheeks. “Clarke, look at me.” She tried to flinch away, but eventually slid her eyes over to his.

“You’ve been doing so well. I know what Serenity said was shocking, but try to remember that she didn’t stumble on this yesterday. She’s had years to figure things out and she’s doing okay. Don’t let this cause you to spiral.”

She pulled back just far enough for his fingers to fall away and pressed the heel of her own hand into her temple.

He let out a long breath but this time she couldn’t look up. Her head was starting to ache and seemed to be getting more and more heavy on her shoulders.

“I’m struggling here. The daughter that we raised wouldn’t be so blind to the fact that her actions affect others – especially her own family. I don’t understand how she can be so selfish about something like this.”

Clarke’s lips pulled down. “Just let it be for right now Bellamy. Maybe after she’s had some time to think about it she’ll change her mind about going.”

“And if she doesn’t?” The question was direct, to the point.

She chewed it over for a moment then dropped her hand, feeling resigned. “Then we’ll know that this was really important to her and she needed to go.”

Bellamy stood up abruptly. “Since when do _you_ believe that things happen for a reason?”

It was a low blow. One she knew he regretted the second the words left his lips. For years they’d had to endure attending functions at her father’s mansion even after he had left the political spotlight. The number of times that they’d had to stand by with false smiles while being told by Virginia’s elite that they should be happy that their ordeal had ‘brought them together’…

Obviously they were grateful to have each other. But even the thought that the torture that they’d had to survive, or the years of hardship they’d struggled through since, had had some kind of divine purpose made them both nauseous.

She let the silence sit heavily around them for a long moment, giving him a chance to decompress before she spoke again.

“They don’t. I _know_ they don’t.” she finally responded, her voice low and forcibly level. “But she’s right. We can’t stop her from living her life. I wasn’t much older than her when I started travelling on my own. You were only 18 when you joined the Navy. This is relatively low risk.” She fidgeted with her hands, then gripped her knees, forcing herself to stop.

Bellamy finally sat down beside her, gliding his fingers over her forearm lightly. “That doesn’t mean we have to let go right _now_ Clarke. This is out of the blue – you don’t have time to prepare yourself.”

“ _This shouldn’t be about me!_ ” The words snapped out of her almost as if they’d been forced from her lungs by a blow to her chest. She breathed heavily for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t want to argue about this Bellamy. I’m exhausted. I just want to go to bed.”

Sidling away from him, she peeled back one corner of the covers and slipped her legs underneath, not even bothering to change. Bellamy watched her, looking tormented. She followed his eyes as they shifted to the door and knew he was still thinking about confronting Serenity. Her jaw clenched.

“Just leave it for tonight. _Please.”_

His gaze landed back on her and he deflated. He reached out a hand, finding the sharp angle of her knee through the blanket and giving it a light squeeze. She knew that he wanted to say more, especially considering the fact that she was already visibly deteriorating, but somehow he managed to rein himself in. “Tomorrow,” he warned her.

She let out a long sigh and pulled the blankets a little closer. “I’ll come down to help with dinner in a bit.”

They both knew she probably wouldn’t, but he didn’t call her out on it. Instead he kissed the side of her head and stood up, running a hand wearily through his hair.

A moment later his footsteps receded down the stairs.

She curled tighter into herself and continued to stare at the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very much still a work in progress and I'm not sure what the update schedule will be like. That said, it's been sitting partially finished on my computer for months, and I needed a kick in the pants to get it moving again.
> 
> Today is _Bell Let's Talk Day_ in Canada - an initiative to help end the stigma around mental illness. This seems more important now than ever with the isolation and hopelessness that so many people are feeling. If you are struggling, know that you are not alone - people care about you and help is available.
> 
> This fic will once again deal with some difficult subject matter, but will hopefully focus on the progress that Clarke and Bellamy have made - trying to deal with things in a much more healthy way before it can get too far. Let me know what you think so far with your comments and kudos. As always, thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Arriving home, Bellamy just sat in his SUV for a long moment. 

The last two weeks had been hell. Serena had avoided him like the plague, always making excuses about needing to be somewhere or having too much homework whenever he was around. It was frustrating beyond belief, and normally he would have put his foot down - if he hadn’t been so damn distracted by his concern for the way that Clarke was withdrawing into herself.

It was happening as clear as day and yet he found that there was nothing he could do but watch, feeling as helpless as he ever had.

He’d barely even been able to coax her into coming to the airport to drop Serena off the previous evening. She’d put on a fake smile and kissed their daughter goodbye, before turning into a veritable shell of herself on the way home. Upon arrival, she’d retreated back to their room, huddling into bed without a word. He’d tried to be there for her - lying by her side and holding her - but eventually he’d had no choice but to leave her like that, needing to get to his shift at the firehouse. It made him feel sick.

He’d spent the last 24 hours feeling completely distracted - spread too thin in a way that he hadn’t felt since Serenity had still been a baby and Clarke’s postpartum depression had nearly stolen the love of his life.

If he had one solace now, it was that he knew that things hadn’t spiraled so far that she was feeling suicidal. Through a hell of a lot of counseling, they'd gotten to a place where he trusted that she would talk to him if she was. But that didn’t make it any easier to walk into the house knowing he’d be seeing the woman he loved at one of her lowest points.

Running both of his hands through his unruly hair, he took a deep breath, then stiffened his shoulders. Hiding in his car wasn’t helping anyone.

He entered into a silent house. The air felt almost stagnant, as if nothing had even stirred since he’d left the previous day.

With a sigh he toed off his shoes and trudged up the stairs. Clarke was still in bed. The only noticeable change was that her phone now rested in her hand where it was lying on his pillow. 

He sat down on the edge of the mattress near the small of her back and leaned over to place a light kiss to her temple. She barely reacted to his presence, her eyes still glued to the device in her hand.

Using his fingertips, he gently combed through her hair, pulling it back behind her ear. “Clarke, have you gotten up at all today?” he asked her softly.

The subtle pursing of her lips and the frustrated wrinkle of her brow was all the answer he needed.

“You need to eat something,” he reminded her, rubbing a hand down the length of her arm.

“I’m not hungry,” her voice was lifeless.

He shifted, bracing himself for what he knew was going to be a difficult conversation. “I know, but you need to-”

“I said no, Bellamy,” she cut him off. It had only taken seconds for her voice to turn steely.

He gnawed at his tongue, feeling nauseous - his stomach churning uncomfortably. Things weren’t dire yet, but there was no way that she could get through two weeks of this. He started puzzling through options in his mind, trying to come up with a strategy on how he could try to pull her out of this episode.

At times like this he really missed Beau.

The stillness in the room was shattered by the quiet buzzing of Clarke’s phone, their daughter’s grinning face appearing on the screen. Her grip tightened as tears welled in the corners of her eyes, one of them sliding free. Clarke began to shake, her thumb making no move toward the answer button as she tucked her face further into her pillow.

With a grimace, he reached over her, plucking the device free and answering it himself, his other hand going to her shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Serenity,” he spoke as soon as the connection was made, his voice coming across a little harsher than he’d intended.

He was met with silence for a long moment.

“Dad,” she finally answered, her tone betraying her surprise – both at the fact that he’d been the one to pick up, and that he’d actually used her full name.

Bellamy felt the breath he’d been holding quietly seep out through his nose. He nodded to Clarke and kissed her cheek, before standing up and exiting the room. “Is that a problem?” he asked as he shut the door, then walked down the stairs. He didn’t need to upset Clarke more and he had a feeling that this conversation was going to go to some unpleasant places.

“No,” his daughter’s response was quick, the words said in a rush. “Not at all. I was just expecting…” she trailed off, apparently not knowing how to phrase what she’d wanted to say. 

He gave her a full minute before interjecting. “By all means please finish that sentence. I would really love to know what exactly you were _‘expecting’_ Serena, because lord help me, I’ve been trying to figure it out and I still haven’t got a clue.”

He could almost see the way he knew she would have started fidgeting - fiddling with her thumbnail and nibbling at her bottom lip. “Wait – are you mad at me?”

He sat down heavily on the back step and raked a hand through his hair. “No, I’m not mad. Disappointed? Absolutely. And god Ren, I’m frustrated beyond belief.” His shoulder blades tightened together. This wasn’t a discussion he’d wanted to have on the phone, but once he started, it had always been hard for him to try to reel things back. “Your mom is sick. You _know_ that. You’ve known it since you were 4 years old and I had to explain to you why there were days that she just couldn’t play with you.”

“And I’m just supposed to be a good little girl and never step outside and try new things because of that?” 

Her sassy reply did well to rile him up even more. It wasn’t like she’d grown up deprived of experiences. They took frequent trips to the Rockies and they’d even gone on a family vacation to New Zealand the previous year. Trying to make him feel guilty wasn’t going to fly. He took a deep breath, attempting to pray for patience. “I didn’t say that.”

“No. But it’s what you both want.” She let out a embittered groan. “I don’t even get it. It’s not like what happened to Mom happened on a school trip anyway-”

“You’re damn right it didn’t,” he couldn’t stop himself from snapping. “Your mom was an adult. She had a hell of a lot more life experience than you do. And it _still_ happened.”

“But-” Serenity tried to interject.

But like a runaway train flying down a steep incline, there was no stopping him anymore. “You think you know what happened just because you read a few news articles? I’ve read them too, Serena. They don’t even scratch the surface. There are things that happened to your mother that even _I_ don’t know about.”

She scoffed quietly. “You honestly expect me to believe that you guys have been married for nearly 20 years and you’ve never asked her what happened?” 

He felt his jaw tick. “I didn’t need to _ask_ Serena. I was there.” The words were ground out – short and curt. 

That finally seemed to get through to her. He heard her inhale, then attempt to stutter through a response a couple of times before she finally found her words. “They never mentioned you…”

“Those news stories came out as a way to tear down your grandfather’s political career. My involvement wasn’t relevant. But that isn’t the point. I still can’t believe how callous you were towards your mother. Even with the amount that you _did_ know – how could you think it was a good idea to throw what happened to her in her face?”

“That isn’t what I-” she was still trying to defend herself, but her voice had lost its conviction.

“No. It probably wasn’t. You didn’t think about what the consequences were, you just wanted to get your way.”

The line was quiet for a long moment. He closed his eyes, feeling a bit of spray from the ocean get carried by the breeze to land lightly on his skin. He tried to let it cool him off.

“She’s not okay, is she?” Serenity’s whisper was full of remorse.

He swallowed thickly, brushing a hand through his hair. “No. She’s not.” 

She inhaled shakily and he felt a pang in his chest. The point of the conversation hadn’t been to upset her, but he wasn’t sure he could have avoided it even if he’d tried.

“What can I do?” she asked him a little desperately.

Honestly he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure what to do himself and that was weighing on him just as much as anything else. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. “I don’t want you to not enjoy your trip Serena. That wasn’t the point. But you’d better keep calling… And pray that one of these days your mother is feeling well enough to actually answer.”

He heard a muffled sniffle from her end, along with a quiet hiccup and frowned, feeling his own eyes prickle a little bit. He hated that she was a whole ocean away and that he couldn’t pull her into his arms and reassure her. “I love you Serena – we both do. I wish more than anything that everything wasn’t this complicated and that you didn’t have to worry about things like this when what you wanted was perfectly normal. I know it isn’t fair.”

“No - _I’m_ sorry Dad. I was acting like a brat. I knew that there was more to it. That’s why I was avoiding you. You and Mom didn’t deserve this. I was being petty but I-” She exhaled gustily. “I’m not trying to excuse my behavior, but everything has just been building up for so long. With you guys hiding it, I felt like I haven’t been able to truly talk to _anyone_ and in the end I just ended up acting out. I know it was childish-”

He shook his head… honestly her reaction was pretty much what anyone would have expected from someone her age. And the way she was talking - it just served to remind him of the details of another trip that had been undertaken due to familial resentment - Clarke’s ashen, tearstained face as she’d explained the circumstances that had led to her kidnapping flashing to the forefront of his mind. It wasn’t even close to the same thing, but still - the Griffin family’s issues had never been fully resolved. Certainly not before Abby had passed.

Like hell would he allow his own family to be torn apart in a similar way.

“I know that we hurt you Serena, and I can’t even begin to tell you how much I regret that. But I need you to try to understand - there’s _never_ a good time to tell your child something like that. If I’m being completely honest it was something I’d hoped you’d never have to know. And it’s something that your mother and I have spent years trying to move on from… to not have to think about everyday. 

“But you _did_ find out - and I can’t take that back. If you have questions...we’re still here. It’s not something that I’m willing to discuss over the phone, but when you get home and when your mom is feeling better - if there are things that you want to talk about… we’ll figure something out.”

“I don’t want to hurt you guys again,” she cried softly, no longer able to keep the emotion out of her voice. 

His throat thickened, his voice getting caught in his throat. “Baby girl…” he had to pause to collect himself. He wiped the heel of his hand across his cheek with a sniff and took a deep breath. “You can’t keep things bottled up either, okay? This is bothering you so we’re going to deal with it. I know it isn’t going to be easy. But we’ll get through it. Your mom and I have been in tougher binds than this,” he finished with the hint of a smirk. 

“God, this sucks,” she groaned, her voice still betraying her tears. There was a light creak, as if she’d let herself flop down onto an old mattress.

“I know it does,” he commiserated softly. “But we can’t fix it right this minute, so how about we talk about something else to get your mind off it? Tell me about Italy so far.”

She was hesitant at first, but Serenity had always been a talker. Slowly her mood started to lift as she told him about her flights and the terrible airplane food, and how difficult it had been to lug her luggage across the cobblestone streets until she conned her cousin into doing it for her. She hadn’t seen much in terms of actual landmarks yet, but their schedule over the coming days was jam packed, and her excitement was palpable, even audible despite the exhaustion in her voice.

There was a hard knock on the door on her side of the line. Serenity groaned. “Lights out is in 10 minutes. I’m gonna have to go soon.”

He bit his lip. She sounded like she was doing a lot better, but he was still worried. “Do you think I could talk to Bryce quickly?”

The sheets rustled. “Yeah - he’s in the room right across the hall. Give me a sec.”

Bellamy waited patiently as he listened to her get up, then heard the muted sound of a muffled conversation. A minute later his nephew’s voice came through. “Hey Uncle Bell - is everything alright? Rena looks like she’s been crying,” the boy whispered hurriedly.

Bellamy sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Yeah Bryce, everything will be okay. We’re just going through some things as a family right now.” He left the details out - Serena could fill him in on whatever she felt was necessary on her own time. “That's actually why I wanted to talk to you. Keep an eye on her, okay? And be a shoulder if she needs it.”

“Of course I will,” Bryce answered a little indignantly.

Bellamy’s lips twitched up. It really had never been a question. Serenity and Bryce were practically as close as siblings - maybe even closer than he’d been with Octavia in some ways considering they didn’t have an age gap. It still made him feel better to hear the words though. “Thanks kid. I owe you one.”

“No you don’t,” he answered flatly. Bellamy had to blink for a second due to how much he’d just sounded like Lincoln. “Listen, I’ve gotta get the phone back to Rena, but I promise I’ll get in touch with you if she’s having a rough time, okay?”

“I appreciate it,” Bellamy confirmed. They said their goodbyes, then he waited through another phone handoff - this one sounding a lot more hasty.

A door clicked shut, and then another before Serenity’s hushed voice finally came through again. “I’m really not supposed to be on the phone anymore, but there’s one more thing I wanted to ask you about.”

He tilted his head against the paneling of the house, waiting for her to go on.

“I know I promised Mom I wouldn’t do anything that wasn’t on the itinerary, but there’s an optional cooking class at the end of the week, and I was kind of hoping that I could go and then surprise you guys with dinner sometime after I get back… But if that will make things worse with Mom-” she added in a rush.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s an organized activity that a group of you would be doing?”

“Mmhmm,” she confirmed, obviously still trying to stay as quiet as possible.

His shoulders sagged. Clarke was usually the one that negotiated things like this with her. It didn’t feel like his place - but he wasn’t putting this on his wife. He took another minute to think it over but ultimately shrugged. What she was asking for seemed innocuous enough. “Then I don’t see a problem.”

She let out a relieved exhale. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “I appreciate that you were considerate enough to ask instead of just doing it behind our backs.”

“I just wanted it to be-” She cut off abruptly, going silent aside from her breathing. A minute later she spoke again, her voice even softer. “I’m really sorry Dad, I have to go.”

One side of his lips twitched up as he ducked his chin. “It’s okay. We’ll talk some more tomorrow. Get some sleep Angel - I love you.”

“Love you too,” she told him quietly. He could hear the hint of a smile in her voice. A moment later the line clicked.

Hanging up the phone, he just sat there staring out across the waves. Despite the wind, the sky was clear, lit dully by the sun hanging low on the horizon. He took a deep breath of the salty air and let his mind work.

Talking to Serena had been a relief, no matter how volatile the conversation had gotten at times. At least they’d come to a better understanding. It was one weight on his shoulders that had been marginally lessened.

That still left Clarke though.

Rolling his shoulders to try to work some of the tension loose, he tried to put together more of a plan. He needed to get her to eat. That was his first priority. After succeeding at that first step, maybe everything else would start to fall into place.

Standing up, he shook some of the stiffness from his limbs and made his way back inside. After washing up a bit and scanning the pantry, he began pulling down the ingredients to make fresh bread. It was completely unnecessary, and he wasn’t even good at it - baking had always been Clarke’s forté. But working out some of his frustration by repeatedly punching some dough felt like a much more productive outlet than giving into his vices. His therapist would tell him that it was healthier too.

While he waited for his abstract creation to rise, he started to work on putting together a hearty chicken stew. It took him a while to notice the sound of the shower running upstairs. When he finally did, he couldn’t help but exhale. It seemed like such a small thing, but it wasn’t. And he couldn’t help but be grateful that Clarke was making the effort to catch herself before she could hit rock bottom. 

About 15 minutes later, just after he’d put the bread in the oven, she quietly padded into the room, her still-damp hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun with a few errant tendrils hanging down. She was huddled into one of his sweaters, the excess fabric nearly swallowing her whole as she climbed onto one of the barstools. 

He didn’t even bother trying to hide his sigh of relief. “Food should be ready in a little over 20 minutes,” he informed her quietly through a wash of steam as he checked on the stew. 

Clarke gave him a tiny nod. Her lips still pressed together. 

He turned around, grabbing the kettle from under the counter and filling it with water. “They made it to the hotel. She sounded pretty tired.” None of it was a lie and Clarke didn’t need to know the rest for the time being. 

Her shoulders slumped, her chin dipping down to meet her chest. “Thank you for handling that,” her apology for the way she’d acted earlier clear in her voice.

He reached across the counter to take her hand, his thumb running lightly across her knuckles. “We’re in this together Clarke - just like always.”

Her teeth cut into her lower lip like she wanted to argue but was holding back. He squeezed her hand a little tighter. 

A single tear escaped her red rimmed lashes and tumbled down her pale cheek. “It’s just so damn frustrating. I told myself I’d moved past this enough that it couldn’t hurt me like this anymore.” She locked eyes with him. “I don’t want to _feel_ like this anymore.”

Walking around the counter he gathered her into his arms, holding tightly, his hand cradling her head against the center of his chest. “I wish that I could take it all away,” he whispered. It wasn’t a new sentiment. 

She pulled back with a sniff, swiping at her face with her sleeve-covered wrist. “I’ve just got to get through today… and then I can work on getting through tomorrow...”

His hand trailed down until it was kneading the muscles of her shoulder. “And you will,” he assured her. “Because you’re strong and no matter how hard it gets you keep fighting.”

She levelled him with a glance before her eyes darted away. “I need to think about something else.”

He bristled slightly, discouraged by the way that she seemed to shirk away from his words. But then the kettle started to whistle, pulling his attention. With a final worried glance, he made his way back around the counter and assembled Clarke’s tea, swirling the water around the bag and adding a spoon of honey, the way he always had.

Cupping the mug between her palms, she inhaled the fragrant steam, the crease between her brows smoothing ever so slightly. After a slow sip she placed it back down on the ledge in front of her. “Cards on the table, I’ve cancelled all of my appointments for the next two weeks.”

That wasn’t really a surprise. She only saw her art therapy clients on days when he was on shift anyway. And at least she was being open about it rather than trying to hide what was going on with her. “If that’s what you need,” he gave her a small nod.

She exhaled through her nose. “It’s not ‘what I need’ so much as the fact that I can’t be an effective therapist when I’m trying to stave off a breakdown myself.” She went to run her fingers through her hair before seeming to remember that she’d tied it up. With a slight grimace, she let her arm flop back down. “I’m still planning to try to work on the commissions though. I-” she finally looked up, locking eyes with him. “I don’t want to let this take over my life again.”

He held her gaze. “Then it won’t, Clarke.” He knew it wasn’t that simple and he was certainly prepared for it not to be. But a bit of positive affirmation couldn’t hurt. 

She seemed to study him for a few long minutes, maybe weighing her options. “Today was-”

The oven chimed and she stopped talking, her mouth snapping back closed. 

Bellamy didn’t let it distract him. “Today was what?”

But she was shaking her head, her lips once again firmly pressed together. The oven gave another little warning beep and her eyes moved toward it pointedly. He waited for another long moment, wanting to push for an answer, but eventually gave up, snagging a pair of oven mitts and pulling the bread out.

When he placed the tray down onto the island, Clarke raised an eyebrow, a hint of mirth glowing in her eyes.

He felt a blush creep into his cheeks. “It’s artisan,” he explained, completely deadpan.

Clarke huffed out a breathy laugh and he softened a bit. Wiping his hands on a dish towel, he leaned against the edge of the stove. “Someone never bothered to let me in on their bread making witchcraft.”

She rolled her eyes. “Some things just can’t be taught.”

The change in topic had seemed to relax her and he went with it. He didn’t want to fight and he trusted her. If things were really bad, she’d say something.

Grabbing a couple of bowls, he ladled out their meal, then sat down beside her. She ate almost painfully slowly, but she was still eating so he certainly wasn’t going to complain. 

As she swept the last few bites around her dish seemingly endlessly, his eyes drifted over to the window. The last swirling colors of twilight were fading along the horizon. 

Leaning over on his stool, he kissed just below the angle of her jaw. “I have an idea.”

She looked at him quizzically, letting her spoon fall back to her plate with a quiet clatter. 

Standing up, he went to the closet where they stored their camping supplies. Reaching up to the top shelf, he pulled down a thick blanket, then snagged them each a pair of shoes. 

As he made his way back to her, he turned off all of the lights until they were left with only the faint glow coming from outside to see by. He couldn’t read her expression but she followed obediently, tugging the booties he’d handed her over her feet. 

He led her about halfway down to the water's edge then spread the blanket across the sand. It was a cool evening, but not uncomfortably so. He knelt down in the center then offered his wife his hand. They both settled in, Bellamy maneuvering them until she was wrapped in the blanket against his side, both of them staring up at the night sky above them. 

One of the benefits of being so far out from the city was that there was very little light pollution. The stars danced across the sky like spilled glitter on an inky canvas. Bellamy felt some of the rigidity in his body evaporate, Clarke shifting a little closer in his arms. 

“Between the jet lag and the fact that Serena is a total night owl… there’s a good chance that she’s looking at these same stars right now.” His voice seemed to rumble in his chest, breaking through the thick silence. 

Clarke stiffened slightly, before melting. Her hand found the hem of his shirt then skated under the edge, fingers tracing patterns over the skin near his hip. “You used to do this in Iraq,” she whispered softly. 

Frankly, he was surprised she even remembered that conversation. It felt like an eternity ago. Turning his head he pressed his cheek against her crown. “It doesn’t feel like it, but she’s closer than you think. And she’ll be back here in no time.”

She took a couple of long, slow breaths, her fingers stilling. 

“Do you remember there was that one camping trip… Serenity couldn’t have been much more than 7. It was going to be cloudy all weekend and that first night she was so disappointed. So the next day you drove back to town and looked everywhere until you found a store that carried those little plastic glow-in-the-dark stars.”

Something fluttered in his chest at the memory.

“The two of you spent hours that evening putting them up inside the tent.”

He smiled. “She was so proud of all of the constellations we managed to remember.”

Clarke bumped him with her hip. “You were pretty proud yourself if memory serves me right.” She turned her face back toward the sky. “It was pretty magical,” she added wistfully, her voice going quiet.

His hand travelled the length of her spine a couple of times before rolling her closer so he could kiss her forehead. “We did good you know.”

Her fingers clenched.

His hand threaded into her hair, massaging soothingly into her scalp. “I know that you’ve been questioning that over the last few days, so I’m putting whatever argument that’s going on in your head to rest - we did good.”

Her muscles tensed as if she was going to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. “But-”

“No one is perfect Clarke. Yes, we’ve made mistakes. But that’s part of being human.” A derisive snort escaped past his lips. “Hell, just think of how much _our_ parents fucked up. At least we haven’t made it to that level.”

Instead of laughing like he’d hoped, she grimaced. “I just need some time, Bell. I’m still processing.”

His smile faded slightly. “Okay.” His voice was sounding pretty gruff so he cleared his throat, swallowing thickly.

Clarke deflated, obviously making an effort to rid her body of some of its tension. She pressed her cheek tighter against his sternum, the tip of her finger tracing the outline of his ribs under his shirt. “Tell me a story. Something a million miles away from all of this.”

Searching the sky, he thought about it. His mind was pretty singularly occupied, but he could try. shifting around to get more comfortable, he began recounting the events of the Odyssey for her - or at least what he could remember. It had been a while since he’d read it. Clarke listened silently, never interrupting.

He kept going until he could no longer cover up the fact that he was fighting back a yawn every 5 minutes. Lifting her head, Clarke gave him a hint of a sad smile. “I’m sorry. You must be exhausted after such a long day. We should probably head in.”

He rubbed her shoulder a few times before sitting up. Clarke leaned in before he could get too far, brushing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered to him softly.

He just held her gaze for a moment. In the darkness her eyes were like bottomless pools, sucking him in. He closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together again. She let herself relax into it for a blissful minute before pulling away. 

With a sigh he got to his feet, extending his hand to her to help her up. Next he gathered the blanket, shaking it out, then folding it up to lean against the house - he could deal with it later.

Taking Clarke’s hand, they strolled their way back inside. “Do you mind if I take a shower before I join you?” He asked quietly. “I just really need to rinse the day off before I crawl into bed.”

Clarke stopped in her tracks, biting into her lower lip. Her eyes dipped down to the hardwood, before coming back up to meet his, their expression pleading. “Actually… I’m not ready to turn in for the night yet.”

He shifted his feet, a hint of agitation creeping back in. “Clarke-”

She managed to arrange her features into a hint of a wry smirk. “I spent all day in bed. I didn’t get any work done… I’ve got some catching up to do.”

He felt his shoulders hike a little higher as he exhaled through his nose.

The imitation of a smile faded, her expression sober but not dire. She reached for his other hand, squeezing both reassuringly. “I’ll be up in a bit - promise.”

He studied her face, looking for something he couldn’t name. Finding nothing but the sparkling sapphire eyes he’d always loved, he sighed. He had to trust her.

She rose onto her toes, kissing him again - this time taking it deeper, her lips pressing against his in a slow caress. “I’ll come up as soon as I can, okay?”

He took a deep breath, leaning his forehead against hers. With a tight nod, he darted forward one last time for a quick peck. “Goodnight,” the single word held so much subtext, it was hard to explain. 

The corners of her lips briefly twitched a little higher again as she returned the sentiment, then backed away.

Feeling heavy, he made his way through the house. Halfway up the stairs he paused, watching until she’d disappeared into her studio.

Biting his tongue, he trudged the rest of the way to their room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will get a little bit rougher in the next chapter as some memories get dredged up. Thanks for sticking with me.
> 
> I always appreciate your thoughts. Show me some love by leaving some comments or kudos 💜


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - see end of chapter

The light from the bedside lamp stung his eyes as he blinked them open. He scrubbed his palm over his face with a low groan, the sheets rustling as they slid down his torso.

“Sorry.” The mattress shifted as Clarke reached over to flip it off.

‘“No.” He could barely make her out through his squinting eyelids. “Don’t worry about it.”

Rolling over onto his stomach, he propped up his head on one bicep and took her in. She was sitting with her open sketchbook draped across her lap. A smudge of charcoal colored her cheek, almost blending into the dark circles set beneath her eyes. Gliding one palm up the skin of her thigh, he glanced at the page in front of her. His eyes widened.

A bare lightbulb. Shadowed figures with horrifyingly piercing eyes. Claw like hands seemingly reaching out through the paper—

The book closed. He remained frozen. The back of Clarke’s head hit the headboard with a dull thud. “God - you didn’t see that.”

He was still silent, just trying to gather his thoughts.

“Sometimes I just draw, Bell. I don’t even pay much attention to what’s coming out on the page. It’s something that I’ve always done and it got reinforced in therapy.”

He knew that. But he’d never seen her draw anything that _dark_ before - not ever. To say seeing it had been shocking was a little bit of an understatement.

Her hand threaded it’s way into the curls at the back of his head and he squeezed her leg in return. “How long have you been up?” He asked, turning his head to kiss her wrist. 

She didn’t answer, tucking her chin so that some of her loose hair fell forward to shade her face.

“You never went to sleep,” he surmised flatly. She didn’t correct him.

With a sigh, he pulled her down until she was lying flat. Taking the sketchbook from her hands, he placed it on the bedside table, then curled himself around her so that her back was nestled against his front. “Feel like talking about whatever it was that you weren’t ready to say yesterday?” He asked quietly against her ear.

He watched as she bit into her lower lip, her fingers instinctively wrapping around his forearms where they rested around her waist.

“What Serena said,” she started, her voice little more than a murmur. “About finding out online. It made me wonder about how much she knows… what kind of details, or gossip she ran into. And all of that just got me thinking about what actually happened - things I haven’t thought about in years. It’s just… a lot to handle. I thought that I’d gotten past it, but I guess maybe I just buried it down instead.”

His arms flexed, pulling her in closer. “Is there anything I can do?”

Her chin tilted in a tiny nod. “Distract me.” One of her hands came up, snagging at her roots. “I can’t keep thinking about it. I wish I could turn my fucking brain off.”

Kissing the back of her shoulder blade, he gently took her by the wrist and lowered her arm back down to her side. “Hiking?”

Her forehead creased, as if it almost physically pained her to say ‘no’ to the activity that usually brought her peace. “Being stuck in a car for hours to get to someplace that would actually be worth it sounds like hell right now.”

His hand trailed over her arm absently as he tried to come up with a different plan. “Do you feel up to going into town?”

She thought about it for a minute then turned her head to face him better. “I have some work I still need to get done… I tried last night, but everything has been a struggle. But this afternoon we could do something.”

He nosed through the short hairs at the base if her neck then kissed the vertebrae that had been hidden underneath. “Perfect.”

He let his head drop down onto his pillow and snuggled closer to her. She allowed it for only a few minutes before making to sit up. He let her, but caught her hand before she could go anywhere. “Clarke, just relax for a bit.”

Shaking her head, she slid closer to the edge of the mattress. “I should get started.”

He squeezed her fingers. “It can wait an hour for you to actually get some sleep.”

Raising their joined hands, she kissed his knuckles then let go. “I’m okay - promise.”

Before he could protest again, she was shrugging into her bathrobe and heading down the stairs.

He slumped back into the pillows. She obviously wasn’t.

Cracking his knuckles one at a time he stared at the ceiling for an indeterminate amount of time. Finally he was able to convince himself to roll out of bed, washing up quickly and getting ready for the day.

The door to Clarke’s studio was closed, so he didn’t disturb her, instead going to the kitchen. She’d left breakfast out for him. It wasn’t anything special - just some yogurt with fresh fruit and granola - but he knew what it meant. She’d eaten, he didn’t need to badger her. He let out a sigh of relief.

When he’d finished up, he pulled out his phone, looking for something new and original for them to do. He came up with a few options and spent a couple of hours weighing the pros and cons of each. By noon he’d come up with a plan that he hoped would be a source of lighthearted fun and hopefully keep them occupied at least part way into the evening. He made a couple of phone calls just to solidify some details, then settled in to wait, assuming she would come out when she was ready.

When one o’clock rolled around and Clarke still hadn’t made an appearance, he made his way over to the studio. There was no answer after he’d tapped lightly on the door, so he poked his head inside.

The antique easel held a large canvas - a timberwolf staring back at him, half hidden within a sea of towering pines. It was absolutely stunning. It also hadn’t changed since the last time he’d seen it.

He let his eyes drift higher and found Clarke on the other side of the room, staring out through the floor-to-ceiling windows, her arms folded across her chest.

She didn’t seem to notice the sound of his footsteps as he approached her, even startling when he placed his hand lightly on her shoulder. Once she’d gotten over the initial shock, she blinked a few times, pressing the heel of her hand into her forehead. “Sorry - I must have zoned out.” She pulled out a small smile for him and kissed his lips lightly.

He scanned her over worriedly. “You ready to go?”

She gave her outfit a pointed look and snorted out a quiet chuckle. “Unless we’re going to a pajama party at the movie theatre… not so much. But I can be in like 20 minutes. What should I wear?”

Turning her around to face him, he smoothed his hands over her arms. “You know you look gorgeous in anything.”

Her eyes held a fleeting twinkle. “Sweet. Also not really what I was asking.”

Sweeping her hair back with his fingers, he relented. “We’re not going anywhere fancy.”

She nodded appreciatively then pulled back, her gaze flickering back to the ocean. For the briefest moment, her eyes went vacant again, but she quickly pulled herself out of it, turning toward the door. “I’ll meet you in the car.”

He watched her go, then stayed where he was, his eyes sweeping the room. It was just as meticulously organized as ever - Clarke had never fallen into the chaotic artist stereotype, at least not when she wasn't deep in the middle of her creative process. There were a few canvases neatly stacked by one wall, and the sketchbook she’d been working in earlier was closed on her desk. 

Part of him was tempted to walk over and flip through it. It wasn’t something he’d ever do - that was a line of invading her privacy that he’d never cross, akin to reading a secret diary. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t still unsettled by the drawing that he’d seen earlier. Clarke’s art -at least her non-commissioned work- was like a window into her mental state. There was a longing inside of him to know if what she’d sketched that morning had been the one-off result of a sleep deprived night, or if it meant something deeper - an indication of a worrying pattern. 

_She’d come to him,_ he reminded himself resolutely. _She had to_.

His chest still feeling tight, he forced himself to move on.

Meeting her inside the SUV, he handed her a wrap that he’d hastily put together for her, and she accepted it without a fuss. “No big surprises today, okay?” She tried to confirm once she’d swallowed her first bite.

He nodded. “What about little surprises?” He asked as they pulled out onto the road. He glanced over, wanting to gage her expression.

One corner of her mouth ticked up in a smirk. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

He grinned.

Allowing himself to relax back a bit in his seat, he flipped the visor down to shade his eyes. It was a beautiful afternoon. Part of him regretted that they’d be wasting it indoors, but when he’d come across the website, something about it had just spoken to him.

Clarke played with the radio dial while she ate, further easing his tension. The traffic was sparse even in town and they made good time. It was still relatively early in the afternoon by the time they pulled up outside the quaint little shop he’d been looking for.

Clarke squinted, trying to see through the glass storefront. “Is that a pottery studio?” She questioned skeptically as she stepped out of the car.

“Is that okay?” He asked as he joined her, suddenly questioning his logic.

The only response that he received was silence and the hint of a nod, her skin paling a shade.

His stomach hardened. He’d been afraid that that would be her response - she’d been struggling with her art and here he was asking her to make more.

But he had a plan. Squaring his shoulders, he followed her inside.

It was the kind of place where the pieces were already premade and ready for you to paint. She immediately made her way toward a stack of large platters along one wall, tapping her fingers along her thigh as she contemplated a design.

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head as he sidled up beside her, slipping a speckled apron over her head. “The whole point of today was giving your brain a rest, remember?”

Taking her hand, he led her to an adjacent area with pieces obviously geared more towards children. Handing her a ceramic mermaid, he picked up a dorky looking garden gnome with its cap falling over its eyes. “I think _this_ is more of the speed we’re looking for. Besides, you’re not going to have time to make a masterpiece when I’m going to need all of the help I can get.”

She stared at the figurine in her hand, then a soft burst of laughter spilled from her lips. Rising onto her toes, she turned and kissed his jaw. “Thank you,” she mumbled against his skin.

They made their way over to an empty table and Clarke immediately got to work on putting together a palette of colors that she could work with. Bellamy just watched for a moment, feeling a little lost. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he’d need help. He hadn’t even touched a paintbrush since Serena had challenged him to a painting contest when she was 9 (even then she’d wiped the floor with him). But after glancing around the room at what everyone else was doing, he got the gist of it and clumsily got started.

It didn’t take long for him to become laser focused on the task at hand, so much so that when Clarke nudged him with her elbow, he flinched enough for his brush to wildly streak out from where he’d been aiming. It was a good thing he’d been using white.

“You realize that’s his nose right?” He could hear the grin in her voice.

Furrowing his brow, he twisted the figure to a different angle then blinked. He’d thought he’d been looking at it from the side, but really it had been the front - the section under his brush not actually part of the small man’s beard. He groaned, letting his arms thump down onto the table.

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “It’s okay. Just let it dry for a bit and then you can paint over it.”

Still frustrated, he wiped his hands on his apron, then looked over to check on her progress. His brows shot up. Somehow she’d come up with a stunning combination of periwinkles, indigos, and violets, swirling them together until her mermaid’s hair perfectly evoked the colors of the ocean during a storm. He shook his head. “How do you do it?” He asked, unable to hide his awe.

A delicate blush crept up her neck. “It’s still got a ways to go, but yeah… I think I like the direction that it’s headed so far.”

He rolled his eyes with a smirk and leaned into her, looking back at his comparative disaster. “Since apparently I’m in the presence of a color wizard… obviously, his overalls should be blue. Any suggestions for his shirt and hat color?”

She examined the options closely before handing him a rich lemon yellow. He wrinkled his nose. “You don’t think that’ll make him too Minion like?” He asked skeptically.

She shook her head. “Trust me.”

He met her gaze. “Always.”

Refocused, he concentrated on making even coats of each color without smudging things too far. Once he thought he had the whole thing covered, he glanced up again, only to find that Clarke’s beautiful work was already completed and displayed on the table in front of her. She was sitting quietly, watching him with her head in one hand, her eyes unmistakably warm.

He ducked his chin, trying to hide his bashful expression. Clarke’s grin broadened.

He put the figurine down slowly, wringing his hands. “I tried,” he supplied sheepishly.

Clarke carded her fingers through the hair on the side of his head, pulling his curls back. “He looks great,” she assured him, her voice confident. She picked up the gnome, turning it slowly in her hands. “Would you mind if I added some detail?” She asked him, her tone changing, becoming thoughtful.

His hand found her thigh under the table, giving it a light squeeze. “By all means, be my guest.”

She gave him a solemn nod, then proceeded to examine his work more closely, biting into her lower lip with her brow furrowed. When she seemed to have a plan in place, she scooted closer to him, twisting sideways and kicking her feet up to rest across his lap. One of his hands found the sliver of exposed skin at the small of her back, while the other held her ankles securely in place. She relaxed into him, picking up a finer brush and swirling it through deep greens, reds, and navys. Her touch was delicate as detailed embroidery began to wind its way around the gnome’s pant leg and the base of his cap. The statuette went from looking like it had been crafted by a mildly competent toddler to the kind of thing you’d find in an expensive specialty gardening shop. He watched her work in total fascination, always amazed by her instinct for beauty.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He slid it free just far enough so that he could read the screen, then pushed it back, his hand drawing back to Clarke’s shin like a magnet.

Her eyes flickered up to his briefly, before focusing back on the task at hand. “Anything important?”

He leaned his head against hers. “How open are you to meeting up with friends for dinner?”

She didn’t answer right away, continuing to add dimension by layering greys into the little man’s beard. “Honestly, it depends on who it is. I don’t think I can handle too many people or anything more than a quiet night.”

“Monty and Harper?” He prodded, shifting to get a better view of her face.

She paused mid brushstroke. “Really?”

Harper had been sick - an autoimmune disease that she’d inherited from her father. Her symptoms had gotten worse over the last year, making it difficult for her to stay in touch as much as she’d used to. He knew that Clarke missed her - feeling the absence of her friend’s mild-mannered demeanor and their easy companionship.

“Monty said she’s been having a really good week. It sounded like she was pretty excited that she might get a chance to see you. They’re just waiting for the all clear.” He did his best to keep his tone neutral, leaving the decision up to her. 

Genuine joy lit her features. “I’d really like that.”

His heart lifted as he smiled back at her. Pulling his phone back out, he sent a quick reply before putting it away again. Clarke leaned forward to put her brush away, but he tightened his arm around her waist, keeping her in place. “There’s no rush. We’re not meeting them for another hour.”

She relaxed back, adding some finishing touches with a tiny smile on her face. Once she’d deemed both pieces officially complete, he brought them to the front desk to drop them off so they could be fired and to pay. The store owner absolutely fawned over Clarke’s work. His wife blushed, half hiding behind his shoulder - but he knew that the kind words had been the confidence boost that she needed. Bellamy stealthily slipped the woman one of Clarke’s business cards while she wasn’t looking.

They drove out to the coast hand in hand, Bellamy managing to snag an ideal parking spot not far from the pier. Their friends appeared no more than 5 minutes later, and he could feel Clarke almost buzzing beside him as they watched the couple approach.

Before they could even say hello, Clarke already had Harper wrapped in a tight hug that had Bellamy grinning inwardly. He shook Monty’s hand then embraced the man’s wife as well. “You look good,” he told her as he drew back to arms length. And it was true - she still looked too thin and drawn, but she had an energy back in her that he hadn’t seen in a long time.

Harper’s face glowed in the evening light. “This new treatment plan finally seems to be working. 99th times the charm right?” She joked mildly.

Bellamy gave his head a small shake, wondering how she stayed so positive. And he knew that that wasn’t fair - things always look rosier to outside eyes. But one look at Monty’s laid back posture told him that the couple really did have a bright outlook on things, which was honestly reassuring.

Taking another step back, Harper hooked her arm through Clarke’s and started pulling her toward the beach. “I’d forgotten what sea air tastes like. Is that weird? I feel like it is. It’s something that you don't notice when you breath it in all the time. But now I can definitely tell you that I’ve missed it. Also seagulls…” her voice faded until it was indistinct as the girls got a little further ahead. Bellamy watched as Clarke started to relax, her shoulders sagging and her lips twitching upward.

A huge sigh of relief washed through his entire body. Monty gave him a knowing look. In silent understanding, the two men started walking as well.

They trailed behind their wives, keeping up a quiet conversation of their own. Bellamy asked about what it was like having Jordan off at college. Serenity’s trip had served as a startling reminder to him that it wouldn’t be too long before his daughter would be graduating and likely leaving to get an education of her own. He hated the thought of it. He wasn’t ready. But that was a part of being a parent - your kids eventually grow up and you have to let go. Luckily the realization had come while he still had some time to prepare.

As always, Monty was all calm reassurance. He talked about how he’d found ways to still feel connected with his son even though Jordan was currently living a few states away in Massachusetts. It wasn’t an easy enough drive for him to come home even on long weekends, but Monty told him that that just made the holidays when they managed to get together even more special. He even talked a little bit about dealing with Harper’s illness while they were so far apart, and how they still handled being supportive to each other as a family.

Bellamy found the discussion comforting to say the least. It gave him hope for his own future - that they’d eventually be able to figure things out.

Harper and Clarke ended up picking out a food truck along the boardwalk and each got a steaming bowl of clam chowder to dig into. Monty and Bellamy settled on lobster rolls and the four of them found a bench to settle down on, watching the last few surfers that were still out chasing waves, too stubborn to give in to the fading light.

After they’d finished their main course, they all shared a funnel cake between them for dessert, still chatting quietly. Bellamy caught Clarke fighting back a yawn once or twice. He slid a hand onto the thigh of her jeans, rubbing her leg lightly. She snuggled into him, resting her head against his shoulder, her attention still rapt on the story that Monty was telling.

They ended up staying out later than he’d thought they would, too absorbed in the opportunity to finally catch up with each other to pay attention to the passing hours. By the time they finally said their goodbyes, it was well into the evening, the air growing chilly and the sun having long since disappeared beyond the horizon. 

Clarke gave each of her friends an extended embrace, promising that it wouldn’t be anywhere near as long before they met up again. Bellamy seconded her statement before taking her hand and leading her back toward where they’d parked. 

They took their time, lazily strolling along the beach for the mile or so leading to their destination. Clarke was quiet, but unmistakably still in a good mood, a small smile firmly plastered on her lips. They passed by a pub, the soft sound of live acoustic music drifting down from the open air patio and she stopped, turning into him, her arms sliding up to rest lightly around his neck. She swayed their bodies to the beat for a few minutes, the movement as calm as the flow of the surf, her forehead pressing into the side of his neck. He relaxed into it, holding her close, inhaling the subtle scent of her coconut shampoo.

She tilted her head back, meeting his eyes, hers as deep and serene as the ocean beyond. “Today was everything that I needed,” she whispered to him. Her brow wrinkled the slightest amount. “How is it that you always know?”

He didn’t really have an answer to that. Instead he leaned forward, eliminating the meager distance between them, their lips meeting in a slow sensual caress. Her hands roamed until her fingers were buried deep in his hair. He could feel her grin, her body melting closer into him. His arms tightened around her back, his lips migrating along her jaw until he found the small indent beneath the base of her ear. “You know I’d move heaven and earth for you if it would put a smile on your face - the way you’ve done the exact same for me so many times, Clarke. That’s the connection that we share and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She studied his face for a little longer, her expression growing intense. “I don’t want to imagine where I’d be without you.”

He felt himself stiffen slightly, concerned by the sudden change in her voice. “You don’t have to.”

She drew away slowly. “I know.” She huffed out a breath, sliding her hand down until she was holding his again and using the other to rub at her forehead. “I know that. Sorry.”

He squeezed her fingers, leaning in to kiss her cheek one more time. He knew how exhausted she was, and how easy it was to fall into those negative cycles of thinking. He gave her hand a little tug, starting them once again on the path toward their vehicle. “Let’s get you home.”

By the time they made it to the SUV, Clarke was dead on her feet, her eyelids drooping and her body swaying slightly as she waited for him to open the door. She pinched the bridge of her nose, then blinked a few times, straightening her posture as she sat down.

He bit his tongue, starting the engine and turning the car around to head south.

Her head kept bobbing enough for him to notice without even having to take his eyes off of the road. He found himself debating whether he should say something, or just stay silent and hope that she’d eventually allow herself to fall asleep. He’d drive around all night if it meant she could finally get some rest.

Before he’d come to a decision, Clarke rolled onto her side to face him. “Would you rather have brownies or lemon squares?”

His brow wrinkled in confusion as he tried to make sense of where that question had come from. “Wait, what?”

She nibbled at the corner of her lip before letting it go. “When we get home. Which one would you rather I made?”

He took a deep breath and held it before letting it seep out of his nose. It wasn't the innocuous question she was making it out to be. “Clarke - No.”

Her eyebrows rose. “What do you-?”

He slid his hand over to her knee and squeezed it lightly. “I’m not an idiot. I know you’re doing everything you can to avoid going to sleep. But Clarke - you can’t keep this up.”

She turned back to facing forward, her head slumping back on the headrest. “It’s fine, Bellamy. I’ve gone far longer than this without sleeping before.”

He tensed. “You’re right. You have. And I almost lost you.”

Her mouth opened, but the words fell short. He glanced over and saw her eyes glistening in the streetlights. 

Remorse was swift to wash over him like a heavy shroud, but he pushed down. This conversation needed to be had.

With a sigh, he tightened his grip on her leg. “I’m not going to force you to sleep Clarke, but when we get home you’re going to lie down and you’re going to relax for a couple of hours. At that point, if you need to get up and do something, I won’t stop you. But we’re going to try.”

She’d gone back to biting her lip, the skin going a stark white under the pressure.

He still didn’t know what this was about. She was acting like she was _scared_ of falling asleep and that didn’t make any sense to him. Was she worried that she’d somehow miss it if something happened to Serena? That seemed pretty illogical considering she would more than likely be wide awake the second her phone started ringing. But he was completely drawing a blank when it came to finding any other explanation.

Giving up, he decided to just ask her. “What’s going on?”

She dug her thumb nail into the pad of each finger repetitively before abruptly stopping and throwing her hands down in her lap. “It’s nothing. I’m being ridiculous, Bell.”

He shook his head. “You’re not-”

She let out an aggravated groan. “I really am. You’re right - I need to at least try. The more that I obsess over this, the worse that I’m making it for myself.”

He wasn’t really sure what to feel. The relief that she was listening was there, but it was still overwhelmed by the nagging knowledge that whatever was bothering her wasn’t ‘nothing’. 

He fished her hand from her between her knees and placed a light kiss along the back of her wrist. “I’ll be right beside you the whole time,” he assured her. 

His words seemed to have an instant softening effect. She nodded, then twisted her grip until their fingers were intertwined. 

They made it home about 10 minutes later. He took her directly upstairs, not giving her a chance to procrastinate by getting him sidetracked. Once they were in the master, he dug through her pajama drawer, pulling out a satiny tank top and shorts set and handing it to her. 

She raised an eyebrow at his unusually pushy behavior, but she didn’t fight him, instead taking the clothes with her into the bathroom to wash up and get changed.

While she was gone, he set about lighting some candles until the room was filled with a soothing vanilla fragrance. Switching off the overhead light, he was left with a soft flickering glow.

Clarke padded up behind him, snaking her arms around his waist as she leaned into his back. “Are you trying to seduce me? Because I hate to break it to you Mister, but I’m already taken,” she joked drily.

Twisting his body, he smirked at her and kissed the side of her head. “Well then he’s one hell of a lucky man.” He peeled back the covers and motioned her forward.

She edged onto the mattress then looked up at him expectantly, her forehead creasing when she realized that he was still in the clothes he’d been wearing all day.

He shook his head once. “Turn over.”

Her brow lifted, but she followed his instructions, rolling onto her stomach with her head twisted sideways on the pillow.

Squatting down, he riffled through the bedside table for a moment until he found what he was looking for, then sat on the edge of the bed by her side. “Close your eyes.”

She only hesitated for a moment before her eyelids fluttered shut, her expression still tight with strain. Adjusting the way he was sitting, he pulled the duvet up until it rested just below the waistband of her shorts, then eased the fabric of her shirt up, exposing the soft skin of her back. Next he picked up the bottle he’d just pulled out and dribbled some of the mildly scented oil into his hand, warming it between his palms.

Her lids opened halfway lazily. “You don’t need to do this, Bellamy.”

He rested his flattened hands just below the curve of her hip bones, kneading his thumbs in lightly. “I want to.”

She hummed softly, deep in her throat, but relented, her limbs sinking deeper into the mattress.

Circling over the dimples at the small of her back once, he smoothed his palms along the sides of her spine, then let them drift out toward her shoulders. He encountered a couple of hard knots of muscle along the way and Clarke hissed, trying to draw away from his hands.

He instantly eased up on the amount of pressure he was using, skating over her ribs with little more than a featherlight touch. “Better?”

“Mmm,” she mumbled against the pillow, arching closer into his hands, then exhaling, her body loosening back up. 

He worked his way down each of her arms, one at a time, trying to alleviate some of the stiffness that had built up just above her wrists. She was like putty in his hands - showing absolutely no resistance as he gently brought each limb to rest above her head once he was finished with it. By the time he had made his way back to her shoulders, her breathing had become slow and even. He massaged his hands up and down the length of her spine twice more before sweeping a light kiss between her shoulder blades. She didn’t stir.

Releasing a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding, he guided her shirt back down, then slowly unrolled the blanket to rest just below her chin.

She was really out - her pure exhaustion having finally won. He began making his way around the room, blowing out each of the candles.

As he was leaning over the final wick on her bedside table, he was startled by the screen of her phone flashing brightly. He managed to scoop it up milliseconds before it started to vibrate, just barely preventing the horrible grating sound it would have made.

Hurrying from the room, he shut the door as quietly as he could and then answered. “Hello?” He was still whispering, not far enough away from the bedroom yet to trust that his voice wouldn’t rouse Clarke.

“I’m so so so sorry,” Serena gushed immediately. “I meant to call you earlier but I was really tired. I was only planning to sit down for a couple of minutes but I must have passed out. I didn’t mean to I swear-”

“It’s fine,” he assured her hurriedly. He scratched the back of his head as he entered the kitchen, eying the time on the stove. It had honestly slipped his mind that they hadn’t heard from her yet, there had just been so much else going on.

She paused for a long moment, taking a couple of deep breaths. “You answered again. Does that mean that Mom is-”

Once again he was quick to cut her off. “She’s just sleeping, Ren. It’s okay. Actually things were a lot better today. I’m sorry I blew up at you last night-”

“No.” It was her turn to interject. “No, I deserved that. You were holding me accountable for my actions.”

He cringed. “I still could have found a better way to go about it.”

She sighed, her breath ghosting across the line. “Listen Dad, I don’t really have time to hash this out right now. Lights out was hours ago and Charlotte’s asleep right on the other side of this wall. I can’t really do more than check in.”

He nodded even though she couldn’t see. It would have been the really early hours of the morning in Rome. “It’s fine. You should get back into bed - try to get a few more hours of shuteye so you’re well rested for tomorrow.”

He heard the faint sound of a muffled yawn. “I miss you.” The words slipped out. He wasn’t sure if she’d meant for him to hear them.

His heart clenched. “I miss you too, Serena- so much.”

“I…” she trailed off. He listened as she shuffled back out of what he assumed was the bathroom of their hotel room. “I think I’m going to lie down for a bit,” she muttered to him. The mattress creaked, then he was met with silence on her end.

“That’s a really good idea,” he told her softly. “You know you can call us anytime, Ren - it doesn’t have to just be the allotted check in.”

She hummed in response, the energy from the beginning of her call seeming to have completely vanished. He listened to her breathe for a couple of minutes, the sound getting more and more muffled.

He smiled faintly, memories of laying beside her in bed after he’d finished telling her a story when she was a little girl coming to the forefront of his mind. “I’m going to let you go, okay? Sweet dreams, Angel.”

He didn’t think she’d answer, too far gone from the waking world. But not even a full minute later, she mumbled a soft “Love you,” before the line disconnected.

He slowly placed the phone down on the counter then scrubbed his hands over his face. He felt drained, but his mind was still buzzing. If he went to bed, there was no doubt that he’d be restless, tossing and turning until he ended up waking Clarke back up. 

Instead he started cleaning, beginning in the kitchen and working his way toward the front of the house. It wasn’t like things had been a mess, he was just giving himself something to do that would allow him not to think too hard. 

By the time he’d finished straightening out the entryway, he could barely keep his eyes open. He dragged his feet the whole way up the stairs, his entire body feeling heavy.

He kept the lights off as he changed and washed up, but once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw that Clarke hadn’t even moved an inch since he’d last been in the room - another testament to just how tired she’d been.

Doing everything in his power not to disturb her in any way, he pulled back the covers on his side of the bed and slipped in between the sheets. Clarke let out a soft groan, rolling onto her side, but settled again almost instantly.

He exhaled, then just stared at the ceiling. Even though he’d done his best to exhaust himself, sleep didn’t come easily. It just didn’t feel right - he and Clarke rarely slept separately. In each other’s arms was where they felt safe… where they could allow themselves to relax. But he didn’t want to risk waking her by pulling her any closer.

Instead he did his best to ignore the cool air seeping into his skin, until his eyelids finally closed. 

_He walked in through the front door of the house, but instead of the peaceful solitude he was used to, his home was bustling with activity - people everywhere, dressed up for some sort of special occasion. He blinked in confusion, but nobody paid him any attention - too busy to even notice him there._

_Strolling through, he caught a glimpse of Marie in Clarke’s studio, being helped into a long white gown. He couldn’t help but be a little surprised. His goddaughter was incredibly happy, having recently moved in with her long term girlfriend, but he would have thought he would have known if she was getting married - especially if the venue was his house._

_He made his way into the kitchen, aiming to get himself a glass of water and hopefully clear his head. A quiet whimper distracted him, making him pause with the glass still partway to his lips._

_He glanced up. Serenity was visible through the back door, sitting huddled on the top step. He frowned - the noise hadn’t sounded like his daughter at all._

_But sure enough, when he opened the door and sat down at her side, her face was flushed and her cheeks were damp. She wiped at them hurriedly, trying to cover up the evidence._

_“Is everything okay?” He asked her quietly._

_She sniffed. “Yeah. Everything’s great,” she tried to reassure him, one side of her lips pulling up into a half smile. Her expression quivered there briefly before completely falling, her lips parting on a soft sob._

_Bewildered, he gathered her into his arms, pulling her upper body into his lap. He rubbed one hand over her shoulders, shushing her gently. The sound of her cries was off, almost as if it were two separate voices overlaid with each other. He pushed that thought aside - it wasn’t important. He needed to be focused on his daughter. “What’s going on, Ren?”_

_She pulled away from him, rubbing the back of her arm across her cheeks in embarrassment. “It’s stupid,” she muttered, turning her face away._

_Catching her chin, he calmly turned her face back around. “Anything that’s got you this upset isn’t stupid.”_

_She stared at him for a long moment, her sad eyes piercing through him as she figured out how much she should say. “I see how happy Marie is and it just sets off this panic deep inside of me. She’s found the love of her life and they have this brilliant future laid out ahead of them. And then I’m just here - alone. I can’t help but feel like I'm wasting so much time and it’s terrifying.”_

_His eyebrows narrowed in confusion. She was still in high school. As happy as he was for Marie, she’d found love really young. Serena shouldn't be feeling that kind of pressure._

_His attention was briefly diverted by something… unintelligible words moaned in an all too familiar voice. His forehead creased again, but it didn’t get any clearer._

_Trying to focus solely on Serenity, he turned back to her. Her eyes were glistening, more sparkling tears trailing down her cheeks. He placed a hand on her elbow. “Angel, you’re still so young. You have all of the time in the world. Why rush?”_

_She shook her head, hair sticking to her wet skin. “What if I’m just wasting it? What if by the time I finally find the right person, I don’t even get the chance to know them before they get taken away?”_

_The noises were back, grating across every nerve along his spine. He pushed them away. His daughter needed him. “Why would you think that?”_

_Her lower lip quivered. “You and Mom…”_

_She didn’t get a chance to finish that thought. Octavia appeared out of nowhere, her emerald eyes bright with panic. “Have you seen Clarke?”_

_Confused, he looked around but saw only the other guests, milling around in their finery. “No. Why?”_

_The sound came again. Louder this time and more clear - a piercing shriek._

_Serenity turned ghostly pale, hurrying for the stairs. “Mom?!”_

_He didn’t know how he hadn’t recognized it before. It was Clarke. It was Clarke_ screaming. _His heart stuttered, gorge rising in his throat, leaving a bitter taste at the back of his tongue. “Oh my god…”_

_Serenity had made it to the landing, turning towards the master bedroom. She froze in her tracks. The anguished wail that left her lips was downright haunting._

His eyes snapped open-

But the screaming didn’t stop.

He blinked, trying to make sense of the disorienting darkness. The mattress lurched, and the desperate cries seemed to get even louder. Sitting up quickly, he fumbled for the lamp, nearly knocking it over. His heart was pounding in his chest as the dim light finally flickered on.

Clarke was writhing on the bed beside him, the sweat soaked sheets tangled around her legs, her shirt bunched up around her chest. Her face was bright red, her cheeks glistening with tears. She let out another piercing wail.

“Clarke-” he reached for her, gently laying a hand on her shoulder.

She arched up, the tendons in her neck straining. “ _No_!”

Her flailing arm batted his away with surprising force. He was too shocked to move for a moment, simply staring at her while his mind kept trying to wake up.

But that didn’t do anything to actually help the situation.

Her right leg had become so entrapped that she could no longer move it. That seemed to agitate her even more, her thrashing growing to a new level of vigor. Frantically, she began clawing at it, leaving deep red furrows in her thigh.

“Clarke, wake up,” he tried again a little louder, panic coming through clearly in his voice. Nothing changed - his words alone didn’t seem to have any effect.

He needed to get her to stop before she truly hurt herself - he could already see tiny droplets of blood bubbling up along her leg. The problem was he didn’t know how. Clarke had always been a light sleeper, but whatever was happening obviously had her deep in its hold. 

Rolling onto his side, he managed to cup her face with his palm, rubbing soothing circles into her cheek. “Princess, _please_.”

Again his touch had the exact opposite effect from what he’d intended.

She was a flurry of limbs, her elbow glancing off of his collarbone, her thigh making solid contact with his flank. His breath left him in a soft grunt from the unexpected blow. Instead of pulling back, he held firm, ducking past her fist to bring his lips to her ear to continue to try to coax her out of it. 

Out of nowhere she went deathly still. A moment later her eyes flew open, the whites practically glowing in the pale light. 

“Clarke?” He questioned cautiously. 

She inhaled a shuddering breath. 

Then she shoved at him again, this time just to get out from underneath him as she scrambled off of the bed and stumbled haphazardly away. The ensuite door made a loud crash as she threw it open. Seconds later, the sound of retching made his own insides churn. 

He couldn’t move. It had probably only been a couple of minutes since he’d woken up, and yet it felt like a hellish eternity. He’d never seen Clarke have so much as a nightmare since they’d escaped. What had just happened… it gave him a whole new appreciation for every time she’d pulled him out of a night terror with unerring calm. 

Witnessing it from the other side of things had been absolutely horrifying. 

Clarke gagged again, finally jostling him into action. He climbed off of the mattress and shuffled his way to the adjoining bathroom, pausing just inside of the doorway.

She was hunched beside the toilet, visibly trembling. She’d been scratching at her arms, her knuckles white.

He lunged forward, trapping her hands and pulling them away.

“My skin is _crawling,_ ” she gasped out, trying to free herself from his grasp.

He struggled to keep a hold of both of her hands with one of his, walking the fine line between stopping her from doing further damage and trying to make sure she didn’t feel restrained. With his other hand, he clumsily wet a face cloth in the sink then ran the cool material soothingly over the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders - trying to make her brain reset by changing the sensation.

She was still sobbing, her chest heaving and her body ratcheted tight with tension, but gradually she stopped fighting him, so he let go. Folding the cloth into a neater bundle, he draped it across the base of her neck, then sat down on the edge of the tub and started braiding her hair back as she continued to dry heave. He seemed to finish at the same time she did, securing the end with an elastic he’d fished from the drawer, just as she gingerly closed the toilet lid with a shaking hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked her quietly.

A fresh tear escaped, rolling down her cheek before falling to the tile below. She shook her head firmly, her lips pursed together.

His hand trailed down, encountering the rock hard angle of her trap before sliding across the sinewy muscles along her spine. Her jaw clenched almost imperceptibly.

“Do you need me to back off?” His gut tightened at the thought, but he knew that it was a real possibility.

Her hand latched onto his wrist, striking out quickly. Her grip was so tight, it was bordering on uncomfortable. Instinctively, he tugged back, but her fingers only squeezed harder. A split second later he relaxed, taking a deep breath. Her eyes softened a fraction.

“I need to feel that you’re real.” Her raspy voice was crushing.

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, he nodded. Sweeping an errant strand of hair behind her ear, he leaned in, his eyes locking with her swimming azure orbs. “I’m real. We’re _safe_.”

Her lip trembled again as she launched herself from her knees into his arms with enough force to rock him backward, just managing to catch himself before they both took a tumble. She was still shaking like a leaf. 

His hands tangled into the soaked fabric at the base of her spine and he had to suppress a grimace. Her arms were so tight around his neck that he could barely move, but somehow he managed to maneuver his head around to place a soft kiss just above her ear. “Babe, I’m not leaving - I promise. But we need to get you cleaned up, okay?”

She hesitated for a long moment before finally nodding. 

Slowly, he helped her to her feet while she continued to cling to him. He managed to walk her back until they were standing outside the shower. As gently as he could, he pried her arms free, then set about the process of peeling the soiled clothes from her body as the water warmed up. When he was satisfied with the temperature, he stepped her under the spray, leaning her against the wall, her knees threatening to give out. He was getting drenched as well, but the thought barely even crossed his mind as he examined her glazed over eyes, taking in her shellshocked expression. 

He hated this so much. 

Pressing a kiss to her brow, he leaned his forehead against hers. “Are you going to be okay like this? I just need to get a couple of things.”

He had to ask twice before she finally acknowledged him with a hint of a nod, her trembling hand reaching for the bar soap resting on the ledge and clutching it in a death grip. 

He really didn’t want to step away, but it was either do it now, or leave her shivering in the cold after she got out. Neither one was a good option. 

So he chose to get it over with as quickly as possible. Stepping back into the next room he hastily stripped the bed and threw the sheets into the wash, finding a fresh set in the hall closet to replace them. When the bed was made, he made quick work of changing out of his damp pajamas, and grabbed an old shirt and set of boxers from one of his drawers for Clarke, knowing that on the worst days his scent sometimes helped to ground her. 

Back in the washroom, he found Clarke curled up in the corner of the shower, her skin a raw pink, and the remnants of the soap dangling from her fingers. 

The image turned his stomach, the haunting familiarity leaving little question about exactly which night her mind was trapped on. He steeled himself. He couldn’t allow himself to go back there too - not when she was like this. He had to find a way to hold it together for the time being.

Grabbing a thick towel off of its hook, he shut the water off and slipped the last few crumbling pieces of soap from her hand, discarding them into the corner. She flinched away from his touch, hands coming up to fend off her attacker until she recognized who he was. Then her face just crumpled all over again. He wrapped her in the plushy fabric then lifted her out, dressing her as efficiently as he could once she was securely back on her feet.

She followed him like a shadow as he made his way back to the bedroom, her presence unnervingly silent. He peeled back the blankets for her, but she just continued to stand there, her eyes unfocused.

“Clarke,” he prodded gently. She still didn’t move. 

With a sigh, he shut off all of the lights and got into the bed himself, then reached for her hand. “Come here,” he murmured gently. Without any resistance she let him pull her onto the mattress beside him, then shift her up onto his chest so that her weight rested evenly along the length of his body. He knew how calming the steady metronome of her heartbeat was when he was stuck in the muddled purgatory between the past and the present. He prayed that she might be able to find even a hint of that same comfort. 

Being quick and efficient, he began to tuck the duvet in along his sides so that it would apply pressure across her skin, similar to the effect of a weighted blanket, all the while studying her for any sign that his actions were making things worse. 

Clarke just continued to whimper, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. It was breaking his heart. 

With one hand he threaded his fingers into the loosening hair of her braid and craned his neck to place a firm kiss against her crown. 

He didn’t know how else to help. 

Thankfully whenever _he’d_ had a night terror in the past, his mind was able to reset fairly quickly after it ended, allowing him to fall back asleep with the reassurance of Clarke by his side. 

Obviously the same couldn’t be said for her. He didn’t think that she was currently stuck in a flashback, but it was apparent that she was still fixated on whatever she’d just relived, the memories refusing to fade. 

The silence in the room was suffocating, the oppressive weight pushing relentlessly down, threatening to send him tailspinning as well. 

He needed a distraction. They both did - as soon as possible. 

He groped at his nightstand with his free hand until his palm connected with the hard ridges of his phone. Turning his head, he clicked the screen on and glanced at the time. 

3:08am. 

Doing some quick mental math he chewed at the inside of his cheek, then dialed before he could talk himself out of it. His thumb brushed the speakerphone on just before he dropped the device onto the pillow beside his head, the screen illuminating the room in a soft glow.

It rang twice, the sound echoing through the stillness. He wasn’t sure Clarke even heard.

Then the line connected with a soft click.

“Dad?” Serenity questioned skeptically.

His lungs deflated with a quiet hiss. “Hey Serena,” he breathed, his voice as soft as it had ever been.

There was a short pause. He heard her swallow. “Is everything okay? Did something happen to Mo-?”

“Everything’s fine, Angel,” he answered hurriedly, cutting her off before she could start speculating. “I promise.”

“Then why are you calling? Isn’t it like 3 in the morning back home?” She didn’t sound at all convinced. He made himself hold in a sigh, wishing she could just drop it.

“I couldn’t sleep.” It wasn’t a lie. “Figured I’d check up on you. What’s on the schedule for today?”

Another pause. He had her itinerary and she knew it. Still, she seemed to give in, settling into the conversation with only a hint of caution in her voice. “The Colosseum and Palantine Hill. We’re just getting on the metro.”

He let out a playful groan, his hand absentmindedly gliding up and down Clarke’s back. “You have no idea how jealous I am right now.”

His lighter tone of voice seemed to put her at ease. “You think _you’re_ jealous? We toured the Vatican yesterday. Mom would _die._ ”

He grimaced at her choice of words. 

“The art is just… out of this world. I mean once you get past all of the really problematic stuff about how they got it,” she rambled. His lips twitched up. “Seriously - the sculptures and the frescoes are so… I can’t believe you’ve never taken Mom here.”

He let out a heavy exhale. Yes, the art on display would probably blow Clarke’s mind. But a heavily congested tourist trap like Rome… he didn’t see it as being in the cards for either one of them. “Maybe one day,” he hedged noncommittally. 

He coaxed her into telling him more about the art she’d seen, asking her to pick her favorite piece and describe it in as much detail as she could. The awe in her voice was palpable, even through the phone. 

Slowly but surely the jackhammering of Clarke’s heart against his abdomen began to ease to a more acceptable pace. 

Bellamy’s attention was pretty divided, but Serena didn’t seem to take too much notice, continuing to prattle on about her determination to satisfy her daily gelato fix. 

“ _What are you doing? Do you want to get your phone taken away for the rest of the trip?!”_ Bryce’s unmistakable voice could be heard coming across the line. 

“ _Shh! It’s my dad, okay? Just let it be, B.”_ Serenity hissed, her voice slightly muffled as if she were holding her hand over the receiver. The next thing he knew, he was hearing a bunch of scuffling noises as if the two of them were fighting over the device. 

Clarke tensed right back up, her shoulders rising as she buried her face directly into his chest. He was surprised she could still breathe. His arms tightened around her instinctively, trying to keep her mind from slipping back again.

“Hey Uncle Bell!” Apparently Bryce was the one who’d won the battle. “Rena has to go now. Our tour is starting and if Mr Doucette sees us using our phones, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

“If Mr Doucette has a problem, hand the phone to him - he can take it up with me,” he snapped, unable to stop a hard edge from slipping into his voice. Clarke’s fingers tightened, her nails grazing his skin. Shifting around, he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. He needed to keep his cool.

There was another brief burst of static. “Come on.” Apparently Serenity had snatched the phone back. “Are you telling me that you don’t think we could pull this off?” The challenge in her tone was unmistakable. Bellamy couldn’t help but smirk. Bryce would go along with whatever she was planning, he had no question.

Serena had always been the mastermind whenever the two of them would get into mischief - she reminded him far too much of a young Octavia in that way. Bryce had a tendency to blindly follow without thinking too hard about the consequences. It had gotten the two of them into trouble far too often in the past.

On this particular occasion however, he couldn’t bring himself to argue.

The sound quality of the call shifted, letting in far more background noise, including the slightly muffled sound of a tour guide droning on about architecture.

“Welcome to the Colosseum, Dad,” Serenity declared cheekily.

He laughed lightly, his top hand slowly roaming up and down Clarke’s spine over the blanket. Closing his eyes, he tried to picture in his head everything that the guide was describing, and did his best not to chuckle too loudly at Serenity and Bryce’s running commentary of sarcastic insights. Every so often the sound would fade as whichever teen was carrying the phone hastily tried to hide it. But as far as he could tell, there were never really any close calls.

The tour lasted about an hour and a half, by which point his adrenaline surge had long since waned, and his consciousness had started to fade.

The sound got clearer, briefly rousing him. “I’m going to have to let you go Dad. We’re about to head to the Roman Forum and things over there don’t look anywhere near as crowded. It’s going to be a lot harder to try to keep a phone hidden.”

A sleepy grin drifted across his face. “Did I mention how jealous I am? Because I might currently be sporting Hulk colors.”

He could almost see her roll her eyes. “Don’t be weird.”

His smile broadened. “Thank you for this Angel,” he whispered to her sincerely.

She let out a gusty exhale. “Of course.”

He glanced down, but couldn’t make out much more than Clarke’s halo of curls. “Take lots of pictures. And this doesn’t mean that you’re off the hook from calling later - understood?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered hurriedly. “Seriously - I’ve got to go though. Bye.”

He didn’t have a chance to respond before she’d hung up.

Gingerly, he reached for his phone, making sure his screen was shut off and simultaneously turning off his alarm. Then he scrubbed his palm across his forehead, his eyelids drooping as he slowly blinked.

Trying not to move too much, he craned his neck to get a glimpse of Clarke’s face. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were still pressed into a thin white line. He sincerely hoped that she’d fallen asleep… but there was no way of actually knowing.

His other hand still rested on the small of her back, his thumb had never stopped tracing tiny circles into her warm skin. With a deep breath, he drew that hand up and down her back underneath her shirt a couple more times, before releasing the air through his nose.

Reluctantly he allowed his eyes to close once again. It didn’t take long at all for his sheer exhaustion to take over.

***

Waking up the next day felt like trying to fight his way through a heavy fog. It took him a while to get his bearings, and when he finally did, noticing his wife’s absence in the room settled the turbulent feeling right back down in his gut. 

“Clarke?” He called out cautiously, trying not to let his anxiety show in his voice. 

“Downstairs,” she answered right away, helping the tension in his shoulders to release just a bit. 

He slid off of the bed and immediately set out toward the sound of her voice, still trying to wrestle on a sweater as he stumbled his way to the lower floor. 

Clarke was perched on a stool at the island, one knee propped up beneath her chin. In front of her laid an assortment of items - her phone, a partially filled mug of tea… and the letter he’d written to her while they’d been in marriage counseling, the edges having grown brittle with age. 

Without a word he pulled out the stool beside her and sat down, waiting for her to make the first move. 

Slowly, she reached forward, nudging her phone so that the screen lit up, before letting it drop back down to the countertop. It was nearly 9:30. Knowing Clarke, despite everything that had happened the night before, she’d probably already been awake for hours. 

Pressing the heel of her hand to her temple, she let out a heavy sigh. “I spent a while on the phone with a helpline this morning,” she admitted quietly. 

All of the air seemed to vanish from his lungs in one fell swoop. He wished he could have come up with a calm response, but he’d just woken up after barely having slept at all. Instead he was left stammering. “Clarke— Do you-”

Her hand came down on his wrist, fingers squeezing gently to pull him back from his encroaching panic. “No. I’m not-... I wasn’t-” she took a deep breath to try to collect herself. “Last night was really bad, Bellamy. It’s been over 20 years and yet it was like I was _right back there_ \- everything happening all over again in vivid detail. I can’t do that again.” Her eyes screwed tightly shut. “If I have to relive that over and over again, I won’t survive it.”

He chewed at the tip of his tongue. “I’ve never seen you have a night terror like that before,” he admitted quietly. 

She pulled at her fingers for a moment before laying them flat on the placemat in front of her. “I used to have them all the time when I first got back...” Her chin tucked toward her chest. “That’s where the sedatives originally came in. And then after I stopped taking them I— I just tried not to sleep. It-” she took a deep breath. “It got better when we started sleeping in the same bed. And then I was fine again until everything came out.”

She shifted uncomfortably, gathering strength. “I relived it all the night before you came home from Louisiana. And then things were bad again the first couple of weeks I was in Maine.”

His shoulder blades tightened together. “I didn’t know.”

She shook her head, a few strands of hair falling into her face. “How could you have? They only happened when you weren’t around and I never told you.”

He swallowed. It still felt like he was somehow letting her down. How can you sleep beside someone for decades without knowing something like that?

She fiddled with the handle on her mug nervously. “Bellamy, I-” Another deep breath. “I want to spend some time in an inpatient facility… just for a week or so.”

He felt his eyebrows shoot up before he could temper his reaction.

Her hand darted forward, coming to rest on his thigh. “I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to push you away or hide what I’m going through. I just-” Her gaze slid up to the ceiling. “I need to be doing better than this when Serenity gets home. And I can’t do that if I’m not sleeping. I know that might not make any sense considering I just told you that it’s always been better when I was with you, but after last night-”

He stood up and the words died on her lips, her eyes sparkling as tears gathered along her bottom lashes.

Silently, he rounded her chair, leaning forward until her shoulders were pressed into his chest. He snaked his arms around her while tucking his chin until his nose was buried in the hair on her crown, then pressed a gentle kiss against her scalp. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “Please - don’t ever feel like you need to apologize to me for taking care of yourself.”

That seemed to be exactly what she’d needed to hear. She brought up one of her hands, threading her fingers through his where they rested against her shoulder and leaned back into his embrace. “I’ll make sure that it’s someplace where they’ll let you visit if you want to.”

One corner of his lips twitched up the slightest amount. “God - of course I’m going to visit you. That’s not even a question.” He used his free hand to wipe away the tear that had been hovering at the edge of her eyelashes with his thumb.

She pressed her cheek into his hand, her gaze flickering down, unable to meet his eyes. “Don’t you get tired of this?” She asked, grimacing.

He let out a sigh, moving to face her and bending down to her level. “Of course I don’t enjoy this, Clarke. But you don’t have to worry about pushing me away.” He glanced to the side, fingering the edge of the letter. “Every word that I wrote that day - it’s just as true now as it was back then. Maybe even more. You’re still everything to me and that isn’t going to change.”

Her tears started falling in earnest. He tried to wipe them away, but they were coming too quickly for him to keep up. He cupped her cheeks. “Hey - talk to me.”

Her eyes flickered to the letter one more time before slamming shut. A quiet sob bubbled past her lips. “I’m sorry - everything is just hitting me really hard right now.”

He shifted, pulling her forward to rest her face against the crook of his neck, her warm tears soaking through the fabric of his sweater. His own eyes began to water, a couple of droplets leaking out and carving cool paths toward his jaw. He wished she would have told him why she’d been so afraid. He wasn’t sure what difference it could have made - if any. But maybe he could have been more prepared.

But that wasn’t fair. What she’d been through that last night— That was something that he could never hope to fully understand. He had to let her deal with it in her own way without any kind of pressure from him. The best that he could offer was unwavering support in whatever way she needed.

Clarke allowed him to hold her for only a few minutes before she stiffened back up, pulling away from his arms. He let go, his gaze migrating to her phone. “Do you want me to start making some calls?”

She shook her head. “No.” She sniffed, swiping at her nose with the back of her wrist. Her patented cool façade was coming back into place, more fragile than ever. “No,” she repeated more firmly. “I need to do this for myself.” She picked up a notepad and pen that he hadn’t noticed, lifting her phone with her other hand. “I was given the number of a couple of places. This shouldn’t take long.”

He stayed close by, reorganizing the pantry for absolutely no reason. He knew he was hovering but he couldn’t help it. 

An hour later she laid her phone back down with a drawn out exhale. “It’s done. My check-in time is at 2 o’clock.”

The bag of flour he’d been holding crinkled as his hands clenched, his chin dropping down to his chest. It was good news - but it also meant they barely had any time. 

She asked him for some privacy while she packed so that she could try to pull herself together. That made his stomach churn even more, but he let her go.

As soon as she left the room, he sat down heavily, unable to focus on anything other than the clock, unrelentingly counting down the minutes until they had to leave. With each flash of the small digital number, his heart seemed to migrate higher and higher into his throat until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He jogged up the stairs and tapped lightly on their bedroom door. She didn’t answer right away so he poked his head inside.

Clarke was sitting on the opposite edge of the bed with her head in her hands. “I’m feeling really guilty for leaving you here alone.” She informed him unprompted, her voice sounding rough.

He let the door swing wider as he stepped inside. “If it’s what you need-”

Her hands dropped into her lap as she cut him off. “What about what _you_ need?”

Sighing, he sat down behind her. She leaned back into him and he hooked his chin over her shoulder. “First and foremost, what I need is for you to be okay.”

She turned her head, their noses nearly brushing. “I need you to promise me that you’re going to take care of yourself while I’m gone.”

After a drawn out pause - him staring into her eyes and mapping out every detail - he nodded. He hadn’t even thought about what things would be like for him over that time - which was probably exactly her point.

“I’m going to do my damn best to visit you every day if they’ll let me. You can keep an eye on me yourself,” he assured her. 

She softened, meeting his lips in a fleeting caress. Barely pulling back, her eyes dipped down. “One more thing.”

Leaning to the side, she pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and handed it to him.

His eyes narrowed as he stared down at it.

“They’re not going to let me keep it with me and someone needs to answer Serenity’s calls,” she explained frankly. 

He opened his mouth as if to argue, but then closed it again, simply pocketing the device. There was no point in wasting time they didn’t have over a senseless disagreement. “I’ll take care of it.”

She deflated even further, sagging into him. “We need to get going,” she whispered, so close her lips tickled across his skin.

Neither one of them moved.

They stayed frozen in that moment until the absolute last second that they could get away with without being late. She was the first to get up, scraping her fingers through her hair and balling them into fists before letting them drop to her sides. He shouldered her bag for her, then they made their way hand-in-hand to the vehicle.

Unlike her previous stays in mental health centers, she’d selected a facility that was in the city, making it much more accessible for him to visit.

He stayed silently at her side as she filled out her plethora of paperwork, then followed her back to her assigned room. It was a relief for him to see that unlike her quarters in Mount Weather, this place looked a lot more like a hotel room than a sterile cell. It was flooded with natural light from large bay windows and Clarke had key card access to the lock on her door.

Bellamy stood awkwardly in the doorway as he watched her unpack. When she was finished, she stuffed the empty bag under the bed then sat down heavily on its edge.

He fidgeted nervously. “Is there like an adjustment period, where I need to leave?” He asked, wary of the answer. He had no idea how these things worked.

She shook her head. “I’d really like it if you stayed,” she admitted almost sheepishly.

That was all the invitation that he needed. He climbed onto the narrow mattress beside her, pulling her into the cradle of his arms. She curled into his side, one knee drawing up over both of his legs. 

As difficult as this was, in that moment he was reassured that they were doing the right thing. Clarke was where she needed to be, and they would get through this. He relaxed into her, his lungs fully inflating as he feathered a light kiss to her hairline.

She lifted her chin and for the first time that day, her features were brightened by the hint of a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Clarke has a night terror in which she relives the last night that she spent in captivity. It's depicted from Bellamy's point of view so there's nothing graphic. In the aftermath, she has a pretty severe panic attack and Bellamy tries his best to stave off one of his own. The next morning she admits to Bellamy that she has called a suicide hotline, though she hadn't done it because of any real ideation - more because she needed to make a plan to deal with what was going on so that she wouldn't slip any further.
> 
> Sorry about the never-ending chapter... it kind of just kept going and there was no good place to cut it.
> 
> If you need a refresher on what Bellamy wrote to Clarke in his letter, or you didn't read _Give Me Hope In the Darkness_ (totally understandable) you can find it in the indented and italicized section [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128690/chapters/64870987).
> 
> As usual, the last chapter might take a bit. Hopefully you stick with me 💜
> 
> I always appreciate knowing what you guys think. Leave me some comments or kudos!


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